


Compositions of us

by Obliviousbunny



Category: TharnType the Series (TV), ด้ายแดงซีรีส์ | Until We Meet Again The Series (TV), ทฤษฎีจีบเธอ | Theory of Love (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Friends With Benefits, Hopeful Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Pining, Sad Ending, Unrequited Love, coming to terms with feelings, did i fail, i tried something new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24394414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obliviousbunny/pseuds/Obliviousbunny
Summary: Based on the song 'Too good' by Troy Sivan!One song. Three different stories. Three different endings.Chapter 1: Win/TeamChapter 2:Third/KhaiChapter 3: Tharn/Type
Relationships: Khai/Third (Theory of Love), Tharn Thara Kirigun/Type Thiwat Phawattakun, Win Phawin Wanichakarnjonkul/Team Teerayusiri Yothin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!

> _Scared my love_  
>  _You'll go_  
>  _Spend my love_  
>  _Heart broke_  
>  _So my love don't show_  
>  _Scared my love_  
>  _You'll go_

“Team,” Win whispers, pulling away. His eyes are fixated on him, intense and overflowing with an emotion Team refuses to acknowledge.

He closes his eyes.

“Look at me,” Win asks, nudging his jaw with his nose before kissing it affectionately. He shudders, tilting his head back. It’s different today. Everything is different, from the air surrounding them which feels heavier than it ever did, to the way in which Win’s hands seem to glide across his figure like he’s sculpting clay, fingers cautiously and skilfully touching him with so much care as if he’ll break. Team can't stop himself from being anything but pliant under the wandering hands, he allows Win to mould him in whatever way he wants. It’s different. 

Because today Team lets himself fall. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Win states, a groan escaping him as he presses closer, hand cradling Team’s cheek, admiring him like he is a precious, priceless jewel that he blushes under the elder’s palm, red tinting his cheeks. The words circle around his mind, weave themselves through his insecurities. He’s far from beautiful, he knows but he stills, captivated and in disbelief by the sincerity and honesty that coats those words. 

_‘It’s not fair,’_ Team thinks, _‘It’s not fair how you can say that so easily, so carelessly and expect me to not fall for you.”_

His feelings overflow under Win’s loving touches, pulling him further and further away from the shallow water where Team has firmly positioned himself, ignoring the pull, the yearning he feels to swim ahead, to dive deeper into the more. Where they are more than just friends who seek each other for a quick and easy fuck.  
The hands on him press harder, firm against his skin and he writhes under them.

More. Win wants more too, more touching, more of Team’s body. He wants more too but for him it’s different. Win’s greed is expected, it’s what they have been doing for the past few weeks and there is no reason for it to be any different this time. It is though, because Team is greedier, he wants Win for more than just sex, wants Win to want him, all of him. 

The thought scares him. He shouldn’t want more, not when he isn’t ready for it, not when he can’t handle it. Not when it’s reaching for the stars and he should know that he should keep his eye on the ground. 

The irrational part of him though continues to hope for more. Because Win gives him more even though Team hasn’t asked for it. Win holds him close to him outside of tangled sheets and the safety of their room, stares him with the same intense gaze, he smiles at him, wide and fond when Team messes up an order or does something stupid. He buys him food, he stays after practice with him, stays with him at night when he is plagued with nightmares and whispers sweet affirmations as he waits for him to float back to reality. 

It confuses Team, all of it does. This push and pull game they have going on where Win cruelly leaves him wondering whether this is normal for the type of a relationship they have or if it is a sign of the beginning of something more. Team doesn’t lay his cards out, hides them away from everyone and himself so that no one can be a witness to them. He doesn't want to lose this game.

“Hia,” he whines. Win hums. “Fuck me already."

Win smirks, “Thought you’d never ask, baby.” 

His hands travel south and Team sighs with relief. He can deal with this, loves this because Win feels so good, fucks him so well that he forgets the feelings that threaten to overflow within him, replaced by the immense pleasure he feels. 

He can’t deal with Win touching him lovingly, palms cupping his cheeks, a plethora of soft affectionate kisses showering his cheeks, his chin, nose and finally his lips. It edges him closer into the dangerous territory of wanting more.

He can’t afford to fall in love. He doesn’t want to swim into the deep end despite how strongly it calls for him, not when he is still new to this, hasn’t learned how to breathe through the water that fills his lungs. He’s not going to dive carelessly into this, submerged by his feelings only to realise he’s the only one there. He doesn’t want to drown, not again. 

But then Win does this: he kisses Team, deep and through, taking all the air he has in his lungs and leaving him delirious with want. Win coerces his mouth open with his tongue and with it Team let’s his emotions flow, words stilling on the tip of his tongue as the other overwhelms him. 

_‘I think I like you,’_ Team thinks, clutching Win closer. 

_I like you_

_I like you_

_I like you_

The words, ringing in his head in warning, threaten to spill out and he swallows them back. 

He tries his best to not think about that. The reality is that they are friends who sleep together. That’s all there can be and anything else that Team thinks is nothing but wishful thinking. He doesn’t want to ruin the little bit that he does have with Win, he doesn’t want the other to let go. 

It’s so hard though because no matter how much he pushes away, Win always pulls him back in a lot harder and Team, a prisoner to his own feelings lets him. He hates it, hates the frustration that comes with Win indirectly calling them a couple under the makeshift mistletoe, hates the effect the words and the gesture that had on him, hates how easily hope blooms in his chest. 

Team’s so close to spilling, the questions that had been brimming within him, the need to ask and clarify what they were that had once been swallowed by his fear surfacing again. He doesn’t want to push the boundary, doesn’t want Win to stop letting Team sleep with him and everything else that he does so he buries the words deeper.

Eventually it will spill. And when it does, it happens like this. 

Team, flushed from drinking lies on Win’s bed, it’s especially bad tonight. The emotions surging through him, he can feel them, can hear them in his ear and he is so tired. 

“Go take a shower.”

Team looks at Win, “Why am I disgusting?”

 _‘Is that what’s stopping you from more,’_ he thinks, scoffing internally. He wouldn’t blame Win, he could do much better, so much better than a failure of a kid who can’t do anything without others, a mess, a coward who is scared of his own emotions, a dissa-

Win pounces on him, thighs straddling Team as he burrows his face into the younger’s neck, he inhales lightly before placing a kiss on the area. He moves away, “Not really.”

And Team-

The dam bursts, overflowing until it spills. He grabs Win’s face and kisses him with force, momentarily overcome by emotion. He pushes away with just as much force though. 

“You’re always like this,” he starts, words falling before he can even stop them, “You always fool around.”

“If I’m serious, will you promise not to run away?” Win asks. His blood thunders below, blood rushing as he registers the words spoken. The elder leans closer, nose touching his and Team stares back, resists the urge to turn his face away and hide. “In this world you can be afraid of anything, I will be right beside you but you can’t be afraid of me. Do you understand?”

Team isn’t afraid of Win but he does scare Team not because of who he is but because of what he makes him feel. Team is scared, he is so scared of falling into the deep end by himself. But Win is here and he is telling Team to not be afraid and that he will be right there and Team is once again drowning in his emotions,stuck between the safety of the shallow end and the endless abyss that is the deep end. Stuck between what he should do and what he wants. 

“Especially my feelings. I need you to be brave about them.” Win’s hand moves his hand to his heart, the erratic heartbeat that Team feels underneath his hand is the same that he feels in his own ears. 

_‘Did you want more too?’_ Team thinks but he knows the answer from the way Win is staring at him, his gaze heavy and hopeful. 

“Damn you,” He hisses. Damn him for breaking down the dam that he spent so long building, years of labour crumbling down. Damn him for breaking it down bit by bit until Team is submerged entirely. Damn him for making Team want this. Want him. 

Win smiles at him, teasing. “What do you say? Are you going to run away?”

The fear ripples around him as he moves his feet away from the shallow end, he ignores it in a moment of courage and let’s Win lead him to the deep end.

He flips them around. “I won’t run away but make sure you can catch me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third/Khai. This one is in Third's pov after episode 2.

> _Too good to be good for me_  
>  _Too bad that that's all I need_  
>  _Too good to be good for me_  
>  _And too bad that that's all I need_

‘If my life was a movie then it would end the moment I moved on from Khai.”

He had said those words himself. An end. Third wishes there was an end; not all romance stories end happily and if he couldn’t have a happy end then so be it, a sad ending was still an ending. And he at least deserved an end. Right?

If fate had an end for his story then it wasn’t one that Third could see for the foreseeable future, not when he had spent the last three years in love with his best friend. He could, as he said move on, end this shitty movie himself.

But the reality was that this wasn’t a movie. It wasn’t a movie about friends discovering their love for each other nor was it a movie about acceptance and moving on. It wasn’t a movie at all. It was reality where Third was desperately, hopelessly, heartbreakingly in love with his best friend.

If his life was a movie it would be a painstaking movie about unrequited love, denial and losing oneself. Who would want to watch a movie like that?

Honestly, if someone asked Third what loving Khai felt like then he would without hesitation reply that it was torturous. But it worked because somewhere between the time when he had a crush on Khai and before he realised he loved Khai, Third had become some sort of a masochist.

This love was toruture because Khai was everything Third was not. And everything Third was not Khai loved. He loved girls, breaking the hearts of girls was a personal hobby of his, countless girls dating him one after another but in the end the heart that broke the most was Third’s. Not the heart of the girl who had dated Khai because they only knew him for a week or two before their turn would be up. Third, he knew the real Khai, had known him for the past three years and those girls only knew the part of Khai that the other showed in order to get them into his bed. _He_ knew Khai better than anyone. The satisfaction he felt at that fact was bitter. 

He was Khai’s best friend. Of course he knew him. 

Khai did not know him though. Because knowing Third would mean knowing the Third that loved him. He himself no longer knew a Third that did not love Khai, whose life did not revolve around the other, whose identity wasn’t covered by the fact that he loved Khai. 

Who he was and who he will be, today and tomorrow was tainted by his love for Khai. Everything he did reminded him of Khai. Everything he loved reminded him of Khai. Would he have anything without that love? Would he feel anything without love? 

He spent three years nurturing the tree in his heart, he watered and took care of it religiously every day but it never bloomed. It grew bigger each year but it didn’t blossom, instead it bloomed blackened branches and lifeless leaves. But no matter how withered and grave the tree grew, Third would still cherish it. The tree was his. He would nurture until the day he cut it down to build a coffin as he lowered his feelings six feet deep into the ground.

That wouldn’t be for another year or more. Not until Third was completely away from Khai- he wondered if he could live without Khai after they graduated. 

_‘Pathetic,’_ He thought, _‘How did I let it get this bad?.’_

__

Everytime Khai ranted about the girl he was seeing at that time- he could hardly remember their name but Third did, he always remembered because he imagined how it would feel to be their place. To have Khai romantically even if it is only for a minute. 

__

Other times he wondered if maybe he was more like Nong Milk then maybe Khai would like him, she was pretty and outgoing. Third was just plain old him. This only made him scoff because even then he wouldn’t be enough because he was a guy. Fuck him for falling in love with a straight guy. 

__

A complete dickhead of a straight guy at that. Khai is a selfish, arrogant asshole who hardly shows compassion for others. But to Third he was more than that, he was the person who cried when they watched romance movies together, the one who shared his love for american romance movies and the one who had gotten him a DVD of his favourite movie. 

__

_‘Pathetic,’_ he thought again, _‘He’s a dick.’_

__

Still better than him though. Third had hit rock bottom and he didn’t even have the strength to get up. He lets the person he cares about the most walk over him like he’s dust in the name of love. It can't get more than that.

__

Khai was too good for him. He has and will never be good for Third. But he still wants him, has always had the bad habit of wanting things he can’t have since he was a child. 

__

Just like today Khai will come up to him and ask, “Guess who I’m going out with?” 

__

And his wishful thinking would hope that Khai was talking about him. But he never was. This was their reality. 

__

He’ll still wait for him though. Khai’s on cloud nine and Third is way down below him on the ground. He should find someone on the same level as him, he knows he should but he won’t. 

__

This story will end when Third moves on. But he won’t even if he is the only one in it, the only one writing it. 

__

He needs this. 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sad ending. It's okay because he gets his happy end in the series. 
> 
> I tried really hard to describe Third's feelings because I felt really bad for him at this point in the series, for most of the series tbh, he deserves so much more. 
> 
> Thank you. Feel free to yell at me in the comments(I'll be happy to scream about how Third deserves so much better)


	3. I'm wasted on you

_Fingers walk your thigh_  
_Breathe my love, get high_  
_And ohh, I'm so scared_  
_Ohh, I'm so scared_  
_It's just for tonight_  
_So I take a sip, wait 'til it hits_  
_That liquid guilt is on my lips_  
_I'm wasted on you_

Type did not know what the fuck he was doing but what he did know was that it was wrong. It was going against everything he ever stood for, everything he believed it, hell he had punched and insulted people for doing this.

He had created a prison, hidden that part of himself inside, locked in for a life sentence only for him to give that key to someone. He barely even knew this someone. Tharn wasn’t someone that he had known for long, he was someone who Type would have and still would avoid at all cost. Yet he was the someone that Type had laid himself bare out to. He had told him his shameful secret, the one that he never thought he would mention again to anyone. 

He didn’t know what possessed him to tell Tharn. Maybe it was how the other had cared for him despite the profanities, slurs and insults Type threw him. It frustrated him to no ends. The more he pushed the other, the more the other seemed to be pulled in. It was a dangerous game that had scared Type, the way the most dormant part of him had come alive, the part he had hid for years behind his aggression. 

It left him confused and conflicted to say the least. Tharn kept fucking with Type’s mind, messing with what Type thought he wanted and what he actually wanted. When he woke up with Tharn’s arms wrapped around after his nightmare, his body had all but melted into his arms as he cried. Tharn had held him and soothed him, something that no one had ever done for him before. But then he remembered that he shouldn’t be wanting this, that he didn’t want this and pushed the other away. 

If Type had thought that the push and pull game he had with Tharn was dangerous than the one he had within him was ten times worse. His emotions were conflicted, both pulling and pushing him away from Tharn. 

The problem with dormant volcanoes was that when they erupted, it was unexpected and its effects evident. When you repress something for so long, it only intensifies when it is allowed out and that was what happened with Type. He had repressed it so deeply until Tharn had brought it back to the surface and now the attraction he felt towards Tharn was unbearable, searing through his veins, from and to his heart. He wouldn't admit the attraction, not when it would mean that he would be admitting into being the sole thing that he hates the most.

He did not know what the fuck he is supposed to do with the sudden onslaught of feelings. He just knows that he needs to get rid of them. 

He may have an idea on how. It’s not the smartest idea- he’s practically offering himself on a silver plate for the lion that rules in the cave. He can’t deny the shred of excitement that thought left him. Fucking feelings. Fucking Tharn and his annoyingly smirk and the God send patience he has for Type. 

He wants to have sex with Tharn. There’s no denying that anymore though it’s not like he can tell the man in question that without getting a smug response. So he finds an alternate reason, mixing together a bunch of words that fail to make sense even to him as he utters them but Tharn agrees and that’s all that matters. 

It’s one night, that’s all he needs and he hopes that once is all it takes for him to remember that this is not something he wants, for his feelings and attraction to disappear and for things to go back to normal or at least somewhat resemble the normal he had before Tharn. 

So he lets Tharn fuck him. 

Lets himself get lost in the lips that move against his own, the guilt pooling inside his mouth drowning him deeper; he shouldn’t be doing this yet he can’t seem to find it within himself to stop. This is what he has been wanting, this torturous want and lust suffocating him and now that he has it, he doesn’t want to let go. 

It’s one night. 

Tharn is too good for him, too caring, too patient, too understanding which is why he let himself have this because this won’t be permanent, Tharn is bound to get tired of Type and his tantrums, his anger that consumes him and others and the nagging guilt that stays behind causing him to lash out even more. It’s a vicious cycle between shame, anger and guilt, one that Type would wish only on his greatest enemy(Tharn is so,so far away from that)

It’s one night. 

Type gives himself this one night, allowing himself to get wasted on Tharn’s wandering hands, on the fingers that skirt up his thigh, light fluttering touches that are simultaneously too much and not enough. 

The fear simmers under his skin as large firm hands explore him, they are not the same hands, _‘these are not the same hands, these are not the same hands, they are Tharn’s hands, Tharn is not him, he won’t hurt him.’_

It’s one night. 

He ignores the hole that grows in his chest as Tharn enters him, ignores the hollow feeling that engulfs him as he moans below Tharn, because of Tharn and the voice, the dread that yells at him to fight, to push the other away. He ignores it all. He asked for this, he wants this, needs it. So he replaces the feelings that storm his mind with the way Tharn feels, the way he groans, long and slow, in Type’s ear through small, languid thrusts. He watches as the fear turns into pleasure, the usual aggressiveness easing away, if only for a bit. 

It’s one night. 

It’s fucking addictive. He gave into his temptation for a taste of what he could have if he wasn’t who he was and now he is addicted, high on the feeling of Tharn above, taking him apart bit by bit only to put him back together in the end. He doesn’t take a piece of Type with him, leaving him broken without that piece. Type hates it. The frustration of wanting something that he swore he would never want, because that would make him like him, but fuck does he want Tharn. 

It’s one night. 

Or it should’ve been but Type had never been one for following rules, much less his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. This was a hopeful ending, kind of idk I liked the idea of Tharn being Type's addiction because same. 
> 
> Thank you! Please comment/leave a kudos

**Author's Note:**

> Happy ending :)
> 
> This was the easiest to write because it is not my first time writing them. Anyway, I really did want to focus and explore Team's feelings for Win before episode 13 and I thought the lyrics went quite well with how Team would have been feeling. 
> 
> Thank you!


End file.
